Return on Investment
by Nan
Summary: This story is a follow-up to the season 10 Christmas episode, The Four Percent Solution
1. Default Chapter

Title: A Return on Investment

Author: Nan

Classification: Vignette, Romance, (H/M)

Spoilers: "The Four Percent Solution"

Author's Notes: For episode this great, I'm sure there will be many follow-ups. Here is just one more.

Warning – this is unbeta'd and I've just got back from a dinner where copious amounts of wine was served.

This picks up right after the episode ends, in Sleepy Hollow at Mac's hospital bed.

* * *

Harm sat, elbows on knees with both hands holding Mac's palm up one. Her eyes were closing slowly as she fought the exhaustion and residual shock from the car accident. Her head lolled to one side as her breathing regulated. She was asleep.

He continued to watch her quietly, the faint noises of the hospital activity shut firmly out by the closed door. A nameless Christmas carol droned on the intercom. Beside that, the room was silent.

He quirked one eyebrow. A beat later, the corner of his mouth turned up. He smiled, something akin to pure pleasure flooding his features. If he had been a full back in the end zone with the football, he would've spiked the ball.

Ninety minutes ago, he had been on a mission from hell. A phone call from medical technician that had reveled nothing except an accident and a victim with undetermined injuries. Mac.

As Harm drove, he had been plagued by two thoughts. The first was obvious and most distressful. '_What if something happens to Mac?'_ He knew, as he had known in the past, that life without Mac would be the hardest things he could ever face.

And the second, more from insecurity, but the fear was just as intense. '_What if she doesn't want me?'_ He knew this was second hardest thing he faced. Rejection from the woman he was starting to admit he loved was becoming harder and harder each day to take.

He studied her bruised face. Her nose and lips were puffy and swollen. Her cheeks and chin were abraded and raw. There was a medicinal smell to the shiny cream covering the injury. '_She's so beautiful_,' he thought and smiled again.

He untangled one hand and reached up. He lightly brushed a stray strand of hair off her face.

Harm shuffled the chair closer to the bed, never breaking the tenuous contact with her now limp hand. He marveled at the novelty of this. Earlier, Mac had made no retort, light hearted or not, to break this contact. _'She's glad I'm here.'_ The realization stunned him.

He curled the free arm around the top of her head and lightly placed the back of his index finger on her cheek. _'If she wakes up now, I'm dead,' _he thought as he stroked it gently. His smile grew wider.

Slowly, Harm untangled himself from her bedside and stood up. He looked around the room. _'If I'm going to spend the night here, I might as well get comfortable,'_ he thought and he grinned once again. He almost felt euphoric.

He glanced back at her. Mac was down for the count and sleeping soundly. Time enough to change into the jeans and T-shirt packed away in his sea bag in the trunk of the Vette.

Time enough to make a few phone calls. Despite Mac's self-imposed solitary existence over the past few months, she still had many friends who had a 'need to know.'

As he exited the front door of the hospital and made his way to the parking lot, he mechanically started to dial the first number on his cell. His thumb hovered over the send button when it occurred to him which number he had just dialed. It was Admiral Chegwidden's.

He snorted. Endless times in years past, it was Chegwidden who wanted, no demanded, to be the 'first to know' about all aspects of the lives of the extended JAG family. It was force of habit. He moved his finger to the delete key.

He paused. His mind moved back to the time, nearly two years now, when he resigned his commission to find Mac in Paraguay. Chegwidden had asked him then. "_How are you going to keep her?"_

He decided to press send. Finally, maybe, he had an answer for him.

3


	2. 2

Mac looked down at the clothes spread out on the rumpled white sheets of the hospital bed. She took inventory. Along with her ruined Marine uniform, Harm had charitably donated a few items. A wrinkled, oversized, pair of raggedy sweats plus a generous flannel shirt. She gave both a quick sniff. Okay, so they were clean. But they still looked like they had been dug out of the bottom of Harm's gym bag.

She mentally put together the image of her only option in shoes with the ensemble and grimaced. Coming to a quick decision, she grabbed her pumps, still passable uniform skirt and Harm's shirt. So what if she didn't have any hose? They could turn the heater up in the car.

She grimaced again, this time at that inadvertent quick movement. Her whole body ached. No broken bones or internal injuries but they didn't warn her that every individual muscle throughout her entire body would be screaming in protest. She awkwardly clipped together her bra straps. Doing a deep knee bend to avoid bending her back, she drew the skirt over her hips. Slowly, she shuffled her arms into the oversized shirt and snapped the pearl buttons.

She walked over to a small mirror over the sink. The airbag bruise on her face last night was taking on a definite purplish hue. Who was she kidding? Make up wouldn't be much use. She rummaged through her purse for lip gloss and a brush.

There was a light tapping at her closed door. Before she could answer, Harm poked his head inside.

"Need a hand?" he asked, keeping his eyes averted.

"I'm decent," she replied. "Come in."

"You're checked out. Got the follow-up instructions from the doctor and the car's parked in a no stopping zone at the front. Ready to go?" He smiled at her. She could feel his eyes running over her, assessing.

"Sure," she said.

"Chic outfit," he said.

She struck a pose. "You like?"

"Never better," he said. "I can get a wheelchair?"

She gave him a withering look and replied, "No!"

"Okay," he drawled as he threw her remaining clothes into a plastic Wal-Mart bag. He held out her coat. She cursed her slow movement as she shrugged the garment on. She felt, rather than saw, one of those expressive eyebrows go up in patient skepticism behind her back.

Outside, the winter morning air felt crisp. Sunshine reflected off of new fallen snow. She felt renewed and the shiny Christmas day matched her spirits.

She watched Harm as he walked around to the driver's seat after helping her into the Vette. How could he look so good after a night resting basically upright? Jeans, bomber jacket and black tee shirt made him look like he stepped out of GQ. She shook her head and smiled. The memory of his oversized frame sprawled sleeping in the chair was one she wouldn't forget any time soon.

He turned to look her over once before pulling away from the curb. "All set?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said honestly. "Everything's okay. I want to go home." Somehow, it felt like she had been away for a month.

"Home it is," he said and shifted the car into first gear.

He navigated through the deserted streets of Sleepy Hollow, then Falls Church crossing the bridge over to DC. Mac watched the suburban scenery pass by. Little glimpses of Christmas morning could be seen through frosted windows. Lights on trees, children with presents. Her heightened senses made her aware of every detail.

"You can drop me off," she said "And then salvage what's left of your Christmas."

"Sure I can," he agreed.

"Tom and Mattie?" she asked.

"That was the original plan," he said.

There was silence. "Everyone's busy this year," Mac said. "Bud and Harriet have Harriet's parents visiting. Big Bud and Mike will end up there too. There's Sturgis and his dad. Even Coates decided to try and mend fences with her father somewhere in Maryland. Frederic, maybe? I can't remember. Chloe's not here either. She met her dad in Europe."

Harm looked at her. "You gonna be okay?" he asked.

"Never better," she said. "I could be still in that hospital or worse, remember?"

"That's an optimistic way of looking at it," said Harm.

"Even four percent is a pretty good return on investment," she said.

Harm's eyebrows wrinkled together. "Huh?"

"A wise woman once said – if I could promise you a four per cent return on happiness, would you take it?"

"And?"

"At first, the odds sounded pretty grim but when she put it that way – it really wasn't so bad. Turns out, I'm pretty lucky after all."

Harm smiled. They drove the rest of the way to her apartment in a comfortable silence.

Harm was standing patiently beside the door as she rifled through her purse looking for her keys.

"Aha," she said and she swung the door open. Expecting a dark and quiet apartment, she was instead surprised to see a roomful of people.

"Merry Christmas, Mac!" was the chorus that rang out. Stunned she looked around. Sturgis, Bud, Harriet, Jennifer, Tom, Mattie and… Admiral Chegwidden!

Harriet stepped forward first. She hooked her arm through Mac's and led her into the living room. "When Harm called last night, we wanted to come right over. But he said you were sleeping. So we came up with this."

"What happened to your Mom and Dad?" Mac had to ask.

"They're here. Fighting with Bud's father over the beverages to serve at dinner. Being eight months pregnant with twins has its advantages. I'm not cooking this year."

Mac stopped in front of Bud. He reached over and gave her a gentle hug. "You okay, Colonel?" he asked.

"The commander said the car was totaled." Sturgis said handing her a cranberry juice punch.

"I'm okay," she said. "Just sore, that's all."

"Thank God," said Sturgis.

"I'll second that sentiment," said the admiral. AJ bent over to give her a small Christmas kiss.

"Admiral, it's so good to see you. I've thought often of calling you," said Mac. "You have to answer just one question. What did you think of this year's World Series?"

"I knew there was a good reason to retire," he said. "I just didn't know it would be that good."

They all laughed. Mac moved around the room, chatting individually with everyone. Somehow, in the midst of their busy Christmases, they all had made time for her. There were even plates of home made treats on the table. A Christmas CD played on the stereo.

She glanced around the room. Harm was leaning against the fireplace mantel chatting with the admiral. She paused for a moment to watch. Some how, he sensed her attention and as he looked up her gaze ensnared his blue eyes. "Thank you," she mouthed wordlessly. He grinned at her; happy she was happy.

'If this is what four percent buys me,' she thought, 'I wonder what would happen with six?'

FIN

4


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